


Everyone Has a Mom...Even Billy Hargrove

by Dariary_Absentee



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Agoraphobia, Baking, Billy Hargrove Tries to Be a Better Person, Billy's mind is not a pretty place, Billy's mom is alive au, Billy-centric, Child Abuse, Dinners at the Byers', Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Family Drama, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Slowburn because that's all I know how to do at this point, Underage Drinking, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, check notes for warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2019-08-16 20:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16501817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dariary_Absentee/pseuds/Dariary_Absentee
Summary: Billy clutched the cigarette tightly between his fingers like it’s his pacifier and Steve might take it away. He took a drag from it and blew the smoke directly into his face. Steve tried not to cough, glared at him through the thin film."Don’t feel like going home yet.”This is where Steve knows he’s staring into something dangerous and doing things he shouldn’t be doing. This is where he thinks maybe someone should be worried about him if he’s going to be this stupid. “I get it, you don’t have to rush to get Max home,” he said. “Since it's just you and your mom now, you can take all the time you want, huh?”His precious cigarette bent into a ‘v.’ Billy bared his teeth. “What did you just say?”---Billy lives with his mom after she gains joint-custody of him. What happens after that is completely unexpected.





	1. Prologue

Steve’s been picking up Billy’s slack for almost a week now. And by slack, he means his thirteen-year-old step-sister. And by picking up he literally means picking up. Like, he’s been picking her up from school, taking her to the arcade, taking her to Mike’s house. He does everything he _used_ to do apparently.  

He doesn’t mind too much, he already helps out Mrs. Henderson by taking Dustin around town when asked and Max isn’t much of a hassle except that her house is in the _opposite_ direction of _literally everything._

It’s the fact that Billy’s a _negligent_ asshole that’s what bothers him.

He stays parked at the school fiddling with the book he’s supposed to be reading for English, which for Steve means not actually reading it, just glaring ruefully at the back cover because even the _summary_ doesn't make any damn sense. He’s a senior, doing work as a senior when he’s leaving in four and a half months is...bullshit.

Nancy says it’s important.

Jonathan said it’s ‘a little extraneous.’

For once, he agrees.

Billy roared out of the parking lot _without_ Max twenty minutes ago, and here Steve is _waiting_ and picking up that asshole’s slack _again_. If it were any use talking to him, trying to get an answer out of him that isn’t a smirk, or a weird fucking tongue waggle or something crude he’d ask what gives. So on the seventh day of picking up Max, he’s gotta ask her, _what the hell is going on_?

He heard the middle school dismissal bell ring, his car’s been chugging out steady waves of heat to keep the Indiana frost at bay. Maybe it’s the cold fucking weather that’s making Billy an impatient asshole, he can’t be nice enough to sit around an extra twenty minutes.

He wouldn’t be surprised.

Steve could point out the Party, Dustin’s always first followed by Lucas and Max and Mike and Will always bring up the rear. Dustin also always walks with his head turned back and he’s seen him trip about eight thousand times.

They peel off quickly, Will, Lucas, and Mike into Jonathan’s car and Max and Dustin make their way across the bus loop to the high school parking lot where he’s waiting. If every other sibling, cousin, and best friend can give each other rides why in the hell can’t Billy Hargrove do _one_ good thing?

That’s what bothers him, they’re going to the _same_ damn place.

“We’re getting you a pair of skates,” he could hear Dustin say with one of his big, joking grins. Max was bundled up like a true Californian, a scarf, fluffy jacket, hat, and gloves. All Steve could really see was her nose wrinkle disapprovingly.

“We’re gonna take Max ice skating,” Dustin said as he dropped down into the passenger seat. He slung his backpack between his legs and buckled himself in, Max did the same in the back seat.

“You’re dreaming, Dustin,” she said from underneath her scarf.

Steve let them go on arguing, he knows Max is going to fold eventually because Max is a daredevil in the disguise. He waited until there was a lull in the conversation to ask what the hell her step-brother’s doing, why he’s such a negligent asshole, and why he can’t just do one good thing?

Max’s face went blank. “Where he is?” She echoed.

“Yeah, what’s his deal?” Steve didn’t mean to sound mad at her, he just can’t get it. “Where is he?”

Dustin turned to Steve, “he’s gone, it’s great.”

Steve snorted. “Well, obviously, he’s still in town.”

“Billy’s not living with us,” Max said in a small voice. She could hear Neil in the back of her head telling them over dinner he didn't want this to be public news, Billy seemed to want her to keep her mouth shut too, but Steve had asked and the others would begin to notice eventually. 

“ _What?_ ”

He knew his mouth was hanging open, it felt like it dropped down the floor of the car. He's not so out of the loop he didn't know Billy Hargrove has his own place. That would’ve been big news at the high school, a junior with their own place that isn’t the back of a van?

Everyone would know.

Even if he's living in his car, everyone would know. 

"Did he get thrown out?"Dustin whipped around in his seat. "I'm not giving him change if he's homeless."

“He's not homeless,” Max snapped, in fact, it's the opposite. Her step-brother has _two_ houses now. “He’s living with his mom for a little while." 

"He has a mom?” He yelped.  “Like? An _actual_ mom? Not some weird, hellish--”

"Dustin," Steve said. "Lay off, it's his _mom_. If anything you should feel bad for _her,_ man, she has to live alone with him." And feed him, and make sure he does his homework, and do his gross ass laundry, all the mom Steve imagined his mom would do for him if she was around more often and they didn't have a maid. He looked at Max through his rearview mirror. "So, he's just over there now?" 

Max shrugged like she'd rather switch topics. “It’s some joint custody thing between his mom and his dad. From now on, he stays with us for two weeks and he stays with her for two weeks.”

She’s relieved he’s gone.

She couldn’t tell how Billy felt about it. He was smugly telling the table about it over dinner, about how Neil lost and he gets to stay with his mom now. Neil had snapped, partially because she started smiling like a maniac at the news he'd be leaving soon, they both got in trouble and after that, he was quieter than he’d ever been all the way up until he left. 

“I heard my mom say she moved here because she really wanted to be with him. She like, really, really missed him or something," she said. She couldn’t imagine anyone moving across the country just to be with him even his own mother.

“Did you meet her?” Dustin asked.

Max shook her head. According to Neil, neither she nor Susan are allowed to have any contact with her. She’s a loon, is what Neil said over dinner. He said, she's sick and unstable and not meant for society. If that's true, Max is pretty sure they deserve each other then. Billy can stay there with her and be a raging psychopath with her for all she cares. “My step-dad said she’s a lunatic,” Max said. “She’s not allowed to come to our house.” 

Steve didn’t really know what to say to that, he didn’t really think Billy had a mom either. It’s kind of hard to believe he has a dad or anyone that’s responsible for his existence. He’d believe a ball of energy an anger crash-landed on Earth and that’s how Billy got here before he ever believed someone raised him.

“Jeez,” he finally found words. “I can only imagine what it’s like over there.”    

“A madhouse,” Dustin chimed in. He blew his hands apart making explosion noises. “Totally nuclear I bet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song:  
> I Wanna Be Your Dog- the Stooges
> 
> \--  
> So, hi! I have a lot of feelings about this fic as you can probably tell if you follow me or have seen me on Tumblr (manicpixietrashfire.tumblr.com). I’m not sure how often I’ll do this, but after some chapters, I’ll post my thoughts down here in the notes.  
> Now that that’s over. Hi! It’s me, the author, and this fic is me really, really, really wanting to write Billy with his mom and let him be a 'dumb' teenager. He’s going to be messy and occasionally awkward no matter how cool he thinks he is. He'll do stupid things without thinking, and feel. He's going to feel a lot because now he has the freedom to do it, and I'm really excited about it.  
> I think because he's played by a 24-year-old and the lack of screen time he gets, he doesn't get a chance to act like a teen often and that's not what the Duffers want from him.  
> In this fic, he's allowed to be because that's specifically what I'm going for. He'll be just a kid with a toxic and complicated home life, a crush on a guy, and maybe even worry about what he wants to do with his life after high school. I'm excited to share and write a normal, not-so-suave, 'damaged’ Billy that's just trying to grow up and find his way.  
> Side note: It's tagged that Billy is a year younger than Steve, which makes him a junior, so Billy is 16 going on 17 as a junior. Steve is 17 going on 18 which messes with the ages a bit, but it was personally bothering me (unless they have early birthdays and the Duffers haven't told us).


	2. Chapter 1

Billy dunked his spoon into his fruit and yogurt, swirled it once, twice before spooning some of the melted gunk into his mouth. His fingers slid across the edge of the glass cup, slick with condensation. His ma keeps flowers everywhere, enough that he thinks he should have a sneezing fit every time he walks into a room. She’s got all sort of artsy shit up decorating her walls, paintings, pottery, rugs, and sculptures, and other things for Billy’s eyes to linger on once her back is turned.

“I’m still getting used to how quiet you are now,” his ma was at the sink. Her hands plunged into soap warm water at the sink.

Billy looked up.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Did you know the older you got the less you talked? At this rate, you’re going to be dead silent by time you’re twenty.” She looked over her shoulder to crack a smile at him.

Billy forced himself to grin back.

 _Like, gee mom, that's so_  fucking _funny._

He can usually read the room, like, he’s not an idiot. Half the reason he's not dead is because he can tell when things are about to go south, but he’s got all this restless goddamn energy buzzing in him. All this shit vibrating under the surface with no release.

Things are about to go south. 

Things are about to go _kablow!_

He focuses on the blue flowers on top of the shelf just shy of the door and counts to twenty. Isn’t that what his ma would want him to do? Count to twenty before he _explodes_? Because he can and _he will_. Exploding is what he’s good at it, and it can happen anywhere and at any time.

That’s a fact of life.

His ma’s place is no exception to the rule.

He was unsettled, he has been all week. Between packing up most of his belongings and adding his mom's address to all his forms at school and the goddamn bullshit that is his old man, anything could push over the edge.  After of week of absolutely nothing being the way it's supposed to be.

After a week of ‘adjusting,’ as his ma called it.

He's going to fucking  _snap._

The only thing left to keep him sane is Harrington, but he doesn’t always take the bait. He's not as stupid as he is pretty, unfortunately. Without Harrington there’s nothing to push, nothing to hit, nothing that _sparks_ a single goddamn thing in him. He's not Billy the enforcer, he's Billy the goddamn ragdoll without him.  The little glare he gives him as he speeds out of the parking lot is the only thing that makes waking up worth it.

But that’s not even close to enough to pull him back from freefalling.

Nowhere _near_ enough to keep him from wrecking all of this.

As if Satan or Cthulhu or whatever freaking fucking monsters Maxine is always whispering about was listening in on his thoughts, his ma turned around again. “I called your math teacher today,” his ma said. “She sounds really nice, by the way.”

Billy didn’t speak, his teeth ground loudly instead. He didn’t cut Neil short during times like these and he wouldn’t to her either. Not when sentences like ‘I called your math teacher today’ exist.

Those never go anywhere good.

“She said you can pick up an extra textbook tomorrow after class. Which goes to show, if you just _ask_ , sunshine, sometimes things work out," she said. "I told you there was no reason to get all antsy about it." 

Her tone wasn’t condescending, in fact, she was smiling a little. Her eyes glittered on him, cheeks dimpling like they always do when she looks at him.  

That should be the end of it. In most cases, Billy can read the room, but he was already having a bad day. If he’s the camel, this was about to be the thing that snaps his fucking spine.

His ma was none the wiser of the bomb about to go off, and Billy found he didn’t really care. It took an astonishing amount of fear-fueled self-control to keep himself together for this long.

“I told her what was going on and she was really understanding,” his ma said. 

His old man grabbed him by the collar and made a point before setting him loose, that he, and Susan, and Max are all going to keep their goddamn mouths shut about their new ‘situation’. So, Billy’s downright paranoid about it just like his old man wanted.

If it gets back to him his ma told someone, he’ll be pissed about it.

It’ll be his fault.

He wasn’t about to tell anyone he’s living at two houses now, especially his fucking calculus teacher. He sure as hell wasn’t about to mention that his old man doesn't want to see him until he's obligated by the court of law to do so. He’s not saying he left his textbook over at that hellhole and that’s why he hasn’t done any of his homework. He’s not going to explain that he’d rather miss two weeks of homework because he left his fucking textbook over there than risk getting caught by him.

He was _good._ He kept his mouth shut about all of it, but he hadn’t even thought about _hers._

Hot anger and embarrassment pooled into his stomach, spread out into his blood until he could feel it throbbing in his veins. Billy’s fists clenched and unclenched under the table.

Really what poor fucking timing this all is, if it were a few days ago he could try to swallow the burning anger to save face.

“What?” She asked with a small shrug. “What’d I do?”

But _she’s_ not going anywhere, and neither is _he._ If she turns out to be as bad as his old man, so fucking be it. Maybe the familiarity will feel good.

Isn’t that what they say kids need in a home?

Consistency?

“ _Clearly_ , I did something wrong, so what’s going on?” She asked.

Billy snorted.

She was looking at him expectantly, arms crossed. “Words would be nice,” she waited, paused when Billy didn’t respond. “What was I supposed to do? You haven’t turned in your homework since you got here, you wanted me to just _let you_?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Billy said harshly. She hasn’t been around his old man in _years,_ she probably doesn’t even know what he’s like anymore. How _bad_ his old man actually got. This is going to be his fault. “When did any of that become _your_ problem?”

He hasn’t been her problem in _years_. It doesn’t matter whatever arrangement they have, some things don’t change and that’s one of them, he just didn’t know how to say it.

His ma sighed heavily. She rubbed at her forehead with her eyes shut and grimaced like was summoning something.

With the way her witchy little house is decorated, _maybe._

“Okay,” she said. Her stern blue eyes landed on Billy

Billy wasn’t expecting her to come closer let alone sit down at the table cross from him.  She sat down with her hands folded on the table, her eyes peer so deep into his he kind of understands why people say his eyes are so blue you could drown in him.

It made him nervous, made him wish he was standing. He wanted some distance between him and her.

“Your grades _are_ my problem, everything having to do with you is my problem, Billy,” she said. “I know you’re angry with me, which is kind of fair, I didn’t tell you I was going to do that, and I should’ve,” Billy knows there’s a _but_ after that. “But I’ve asked you almost every day since you got here to talk to her. I’m not doing this to piss you off, I’m doing this because I’m your mom and I want things to be easy for you.”

 _What a load of fucking shit_ , he thought.

She hasn’t been his mom since they left. Things aren’t supposed to be _easy_ for him. She’s just a lunatic, she’s batshit.  

Billy searched her eyes, deep blue carbon copies of his own. His heart pounded hard in his chest, panic building in his gut when he stared at them and didn’t find anything like a lie, so he did.

“You’re so full of shit,” he hissed.  

Everything explodes, that just a fact of life, he’s never been somewhere where things don’t. He doesn’t want his ma running around thinking things _can’t_.

Who wants to live like that?

This place isn’t a goddamn exception.

She swallowed, “what?”

“ _I said,_ you’re full of shit, ma.” His chair scraped across the linoleum floor. Who the hell sit down at a time like this? He _can’t_ sit down, he’s so angry. “Why the hell even come back, huh?”

He was so busy pretending to be good, to stay on his ma’s good fucking side before she smacks his ass with the hard end of a broom or something, that he forgot how much bullshit is hanging around this damn custody battle hanging around the same way Hawkins air reeks of cow-shit; and, then it was coming up like word vomit, and then he couldn’t stop even if he tried.

He’s had a bad day.

A bad fucking _week_.

“You got bored of being on the road and you just figured it would be fun to just come in here and play house? Is that what the hippies wanted you to do? Go back to your fucked-up kid? Did your shrink tell you to do this?” Billy yelled.

“Billy—”

“I don’t need your help! I don’t need a fucking handout!” What he had going on wasn’t exactly good, but it wasn’t bad either after a while. He’s Neil’s punching bag and Max’s chauffeur, and Hawkins is the worst town in the world.

But it was _his._

 _His_ world!

And he accepted all of its bad onto his shoulders. How dare she try to take

some of that from him! Like, she’s done e-fucking-nough already!

“I don’t _need_ you!” He screamed.

He doesn’t he doesn’t need _anyone_ , and he doesn’t need all of _this._ He was supposed to be free. No custody, _nothing._ He was supposed to be on his own without Neil or Susan or her.

His ma was still as a statue, even her eyes, which were wider than he’s ever seen them were still. He hated it, her stillness. His old man would be beyond jerkish and vibrating at this point, his old man would’ve put him down like a rabid animal he is.

“Explain it to me, ma,” He roared. “Because you’ve got me real fucking confused!”

His mom is a vision of something unmoving and steady, except her eyes, Billy thinks he’s seen that look on _Max’s_ face, of all people. “I didn’t come back for you only,” she said calmly. “It’s not for you, but it is, sunshine, it’s—”

“ _Stop calling me that_ ,” he snapped. His lips curled, he snarled until the muscles in his cheeks hurt. His dull nails dug into his palms. “I’m not your sunshine.”  

She blinked, _finally_ something. Finally, finally, _something._ A tear fell from her ocean eyes, but it’s not enough.

She cleared her tight throat, swallowed around the bowling ball lump within it. “It’s for me, I came back because I had to,” she said. “There was nothing else I could’ve done.” His ma stood from her seat at the table, calm and slow. Billy watched her unblinkingly. “That’s all I’m going to say to you, I’m not going to scream with you all night long.” She then stood up, she sidestepped him, walked around him like he’s some kind of accident. He might as well be a spill on the floor. “We’ll talk some more after you calm down,” she said.

Billy wasn’t listening. He could barely hear the shuddered breath over his own breathing, over his own flared nostrils and chest expanding with too much oxygen because he’s ready to _fight_ someone.

_It’s not for you._

All this trouble just for her to be with him, to get half of the custody of him, and a house for him and a job for him. She had to get a goddamn shrink to clear her just to do all of that shit to even get close to him and _it’s not for you_?

“What?”

He whirled around. “What _the hell_ does that mean?” He barked.

His ma stopped. She took a deep breath. “Good night, su—Billy.”

He wanted to know who this woman doing a poor impersonation of his ma really is. Sure, she’d say shit like having the right to have feelings and all that hippie bullshit she used to tell him behind Neil’s back. But his ma wouldn’t put him on ice like this.

Neil doesn’t do shit like this.

His eyes started to burn, and his chest started to hurt with the words bubbling up his throat. “Fuck you!” He yelled into the empty hallway. He waited and then there was nothing. More curses erupted from him until his throat hurt and a few tears fell from his eyes just from the effort of being so loud.

She can’t leave him like this.

How dare she leave him.

He swiped his jacket and his keys from his room and left, slamming the front door so loudly the clattering wood’s echo was enough to make birds fly and the dog begin to bark.

He’s never coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Lost Cause- Imagine Dragon  
> \----  
> Note: I said I would come up with a song before I put out the next chapter, but like, I was scrolling through my old music and HOLY COW this song hit me like a freight train, it's so undeniably Billy in this scene. I even re-read it while listening to the song and was like...yes, yes this is the right choice.  
> When I was writing this part I know I wanted it to be sad and I also knew that for his mom this was going to be his first display of anger. For his mom, that's important because she had no clue he was like that. But it's even more important for Billy because of how far he actually gets to go with it. Neil would *never* let him yell like that, he wouldn't ever even get the chance to storm out of the house. His punishment would be immediate.  
> He screams and screams and screams, which would never happen at Neil's house and like his mom's not happy about all the yelling, but she lets him keep going until he starts asking questions, because at that point she's like...'welp, I'm gonna let him scream and cool off and we'll talk later.' And he's probably never gotten that far in his life.  
> The whole situation is confusing to him because it's different. The house is confusing, his mom is confusing, his new life is confusing, and the way she responds to him and the answers she gave him was also confusing. His whole life has been turned upside down, and while the whole thing about him getting trouble with Neil is obviously a worry for him, it's mostly just a catalyst. The new changes in his life are actually what makes him even more upset, he's really, really confused right now. And honestly...when people get confused, weird things happen so we'll see where this goes.  
> Thanks for reading! :)


	3. December 18, 1984

Neil Hargrove stopped leaving marks on his son in May of 1984 after his ex-wife called for the fifth time that month.

He was hoping to get a somber call _about_ her one day, not a call from her sounding revitalized and _alive._ She was a phantom. She was just about as dead as any corpse in a coffin, last he remembered. By July, he answered the phone just to hang it up again.

In August, he married the woman he met through some old friends in February.

She was a secretary for some company or other, with dull blue eyes and red hair. Susan is a bit like him he supposed, divorced and with a child close enough in his own son’s age. Her name is Maxine, who’s got bright blue eyes much fiercer than her mother’s, the same dark red hair and nearly too many freckles on her sun-kissed skin.

The four of them made a good-looking family.

And now that Neil had what he wanted, this whole _custody battle_ wasn’t going to happen. No matter how much she warned him it would, sounding all ominous and certain of herself in a way that Neil didn’t even know she could be, it wasn’t going to happen.

He didn't take her seriously until she got a lawyer, and then he had to.

He had to recognize that his skeletons are coming out of the closet.

Neil’s always been good at talking out of his ass. He’s always been good at running too. So, he got Susan thinking.

He  _convinced_ her they needed to move to get away from all the drama. He got her worried that her daughter’s father might try to do the same thing one day and how bad that would be for Maxine. He got her thinking they could move closer to her Midwestern parents, to Maxine’s grandparents.

It would be _good_ for them.

By October, their new family had packed up all their shit, and he, his son, his new wife and daughter drove over 2,000 miles from San Diego, California to Hawkins, Indiana. They packed up and moved like the whole sunny state was going to catch fire and explode any fucking day. They hauled ass like ocean and warm weather were going out of style.

Billy knew why they were leaving by time they were shoving the last of their belongs into separate cars. His new step-sister heard too. It was pretty damn simple: his mom wants him back and his old man doesn’t want to share.

A small, newly formed tribe of Californians rolled into the sleepy town of Hawkins to wait for the firestorm to smolder and ash. After they moved to Hawkins and the matter was settled. He didn’t hear about his loon of a mother ever again, in fact, nothing ever went wrong and Neil and his horse-looking wife, Susan, rest easy.

His old man probably _wishes_ it went something like that, but his ma ended up following them all _here_ to the God-forsaken wasteland of the Midwest without a palm tree or a grain of sand in sight.

Billy sat outside the courthouse waiting on the big verdict for the shitty custody battle his old man was trying to run away from. 

While he waited he tried conjuring up a picture of his ma, but he couldn't. If there’s a chance he starts living with her (which there isn’t) he should know what she looks like. Except her strong-jaw, pale face and murky blue eyes, Billy mostly draws a blank on what his ma actually looks like. He thinks if he pictures her crying the image becomes a little clearer.

His fingers fiddled with her necklace around his neck. It was an accident taking it, not that anyone ever asks, but if they did he’d tell them it was. It's not a memento or anything, it was an accident. He ripped it from her neck, caught around his tiny, fat fingers as Neil pulled him away from her for the last time. It was an accident, he was going to mail it back to her one day.

But now it's _his._

Billy flicked his cig to the ground and stepped on it. He jammed his cold hands into his denim jacket and waited for his old man to come out, so they could go already. It’s cold as a witch’s tit out.

There’s a clock tower somewhere in Hawkins, and the bell chimed.

For all the shit Neil talks he’s probably right, they’re not giving her custody. Neil’s got a better lawyer, and there’s probably some bullshit involved about a son being better off with his father too. He’s too old to be changing hands now, he’s going to be 18-years-old fairly soon. Why shake things up?

Why fix something that clearly isn’t broken?

It was all a waste of time and money.

At the moment of that thought, the door burst open, it would’ve scared the shit out of him if he wasn’t sort of used to it already. A blonde came through instead, at first, he thought it was one of the lawyers or some hick yokel with a case today too, but he’s sure no one in bumfuck Hawkins, Indiana throws that many colors on their clothes. He doesn’t know anyone that dresses the way this woman does, and Hawkins is small enough that he’s pretty sure he’s seen everyone once now.

She turned like she was looking for something, _someone_ , her warm eyes landed on Billy and softened like she knows him, like in a crowd of a _hundred thousand_  peopleshe could find him in an instant.

He didn’t immediately recognize her as his mother, she doesn't fit the picture he tried to remember. His ma was thin and fragile as a bird, sick looking and pale. This woman looks radiant and healthy. He doesn’t know her.

It’s her smile though, her smile is the same. 

Her skin is golden. Her hair is up in a messy ponytail with curls akin to his own going past to shoulders, eyes honed-in on him brimming and shining with tears. Billy watched a tear slide down her face. She smells like the old lavender and mint perfume she used to spray all over the house when he was a kid. Their eyes match--startlingly blue irises with thick long lashes, the same stub of a nose, and golden hair. The older he got the more he was told he looks like Neil. That’s because no one’s ever seen her, the people who have know there’s no contest.

He looks just like her.

“You’ve gotten so tall,” she whispered reverently like she’s in some sort of awe. “Hi, sunshine.”

Billy’s taller than she expected, shoulders a little broader than she thought, muscles a little more obvious; but the pictures, the ones she begged Neil to send every year, ring true. His ruby red lips, his big ears now hidden under golden ringlets of hair, haven’t changed a bit. It’s still her baby underneath all of his growing features.

She brought her hands up to cradle his face.

He’s had plenty of those weird ass ‘out of body’ experiences, gets them all the time when he’s too angry or too scared to do anything. His mind jumps ship from the flesh prison that is his own body and flees for a safe place to watch instead. He knows he should’ve moved away from her, but he’s somewhere else watching her thumb stroke across his cheekbone with some type of reverence.  Her eyes searched his for a moment, her smile was weighted down with pain.

“What happened to you, baby?” She whispered.

The words snapped him out of it, shot right back into his own body like a bullet through the skull. And then he could feel himself trembling, feel her warm hands pressed against his skin with the edge of her palms just barely touching stubble.

The door burst open again.

“Lilly,” his old man hissed. Neil came out puffed out and square, formidable and militaristic in a way Billy knows only the two of them have seen. “That’s enough.”

His ma’s hands released his, but that’s all. She didn’t turn to look at Neil like that’s her name. His old man barked it out again, which would’ve gotten his attention in an instant.

“Billy,” his old man snapped. “Let’s go.”

That’s one of Neil’s ‘not negotiable’ orders. ‘Do it now or you’ll regret it,’ he says. Billy looked from his ma to him. His old man’s eyes were burning.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

She gave his hand a tight squeeze, just as he tried to pull him away. His old man had told him to do something.  “We’ll have more time later, I promise.”

His ma let go of his hand and took a step back from him. When she looked at Neil with her jaw tightened, eyes turned cold and hard. Billy recognized her even less. “Sunday, January thirteenth. Three o’clock,” she said sternly. If she added a place, Billy would think they’re going to fight, it sounds like a declaration of war.

Neil turned _red_. His hands clenched at his sides. It doesn’t matter how close they are to the courthouse, there aren’t any judges or lawyers to see him lose it now, to see him ready to swing.

“Ma--”

“Not a word,” Neil snapped. _“Nothing_ out of you _._ ” Billy shut his mouth. “Get in the car and wait.”

“You’re talking about _me_ ,” Billy argued. “I’m--”

“I don’t know what made you think that was a suggestion, Billy,” Neil fired back. “Get in the car and _wait_.”

Billy looked at her and then Neil. By the time they get home, he’ll only be angrier, and there’s only one person he’s got to take it out on. He’s already counted himself as a dead man.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he gritted.

Billy moved finally.

Neil’s eyes followed him all the way to his orange pick up parked at the curb. Billy yanked upon the door and sat down, and slammed it shut behind him. He couldn’t hear anything except the cut off words of his ma was saying, ‘don’t _ever--_ ,’ and then everything was muffled.

He couldn’t see them anymore. He could hear their voices and then there was nothing, they’re too far away now, he guessed. In the meantime, his leg jiggled restlessly and he bit his thumbnail down until it started to bleed.

Neil came back to the car about ten minutes later. His nostrils flared over his broom mustache and his fists at his sides. The sound of him slamming the car door made him flinch.

His old man didn’t want to start the car yet, he just wanted them to both to freeze a little while longer, apparently. They sat in the cold for a few long seconds, stretching on into eternity. He breathed heavy and loud, coming out in dusty, cold clouds like smoke from a dragon’s snout.

“Are you happy now?” He hissed.

Billy didn’t answer him.

His old man grabbed him by the face, his cheeks flattened under his fingers dug into his teeth, a metallic taste entered his mouth. His old man pulled him closer like his eyes would tell him something his mouth wouldn’t. He would think his old man’s sick of seeing ocean blue eyes that look just like his ex-wife’s.

 _“Are you?_ ”

Billy smacked his old man’s hand away from.

No, he’s not.

He barely even knows that woman anymore.

Billy glared out the frosted window at the dull storefronts his arms crossed over his chest. The feeling of his thick fingers pressed against his skin ebbing as seconds stretched into a minute.

And then nothing.

His old man scoffed. He jammed the key into the ignition and twisted hard making the truck rev to life with a spiteful kick.

“I guess we’ll see,” Neil said grimly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfucktheworld- Angel Olson (this song is soooooooooo good though)  
> \---  
> First off, I had this song planned from the very beginning. Why? Because this part was actually supposed to be the first chapter and not a flashback (because the first line of this chapter is one of my favorites so far). I think the lyrics and the tune really capture Lilly and it's kind of sad and cold which matches the weather of the day.  
> This is their first interaction in something like eight or nine years. I decided instead of posting his first time coming to her house that this was more important because this is the *very first* interaction. This only happens *once* and I wanted it to be short (before Billy can really start panicking) and I wanted it to be ruined by Neil because that pretty much sums up their lives.  
> I think Billy is the reflective type when he’s alone and things are quiet which is why I put this between him storming out and the next chapter. He's, as I said last chapter, really confused, so I think he would think back like 'how the fuck did I get here?'  
> I also wanted to give y'all some background and some context too because man oh man there's so much I could fit in this fic and I have no clue where to put half of it. There will definitely be more flashbacks because there's a lot I could do with this fic and I'm really excited about.


	4. Chapter 2

It’s not that Steve intended to leave his house every night and stalk the woods like a _creep_ , it just... _happened_. He knows that’s not something you say about walking around the woods at night alone with a bat with nails in it, but it did.

It just happened like tumbling down the stairs, breath catching and gravity nonexistent. That’s what he tells himself as he twirls the bat loosely in his grip. He’s not crazy, he’s just doing what he has to to stay sane.

He goes out into woods at night looking for something. Goes out looking for floating polyps, the stench of decay, and beasts with rows of razor-sharp teeth just so he can sleep at night.

Which sounds fucking crazy.

He _knows_ it’s crazy, but it _works_. 

At the end of the night he leaves the woods behind, without a single hint of the Upside Down, the knot in his chest unfurls and he slips into bed. At the end of the night he feels safe, so it’s worth it all over again. He gets his best sleep when he does this, it works better than leaving his lights on, than reading, than staring at the TV until his eyes start to burn.

The Chief of fucking Police has pulled him aside _twice_ now and told him to go back home before something happens and he winds up dead, but this _works_ and nothing else does, so he keeps doing it.

If you keep knocking on the devil’s door he’ll answer. He’ll answer in the form dark tunnel and vines, in the form of real, live monsters.

And he’s stupid enough to knock anyway.

He’s just _that_ stupid.

His sneakers crunched over cold, dead leaves and solid earth. Steve’s tongue darted out to lick across his chapped lips, he twirled the bat again and looked up at the sky dotted with white stars and slashed with bare black branches.

His eyes were being much more careful than his feet, his feet are on autopilot honestly. He carries through the woods and debates his sanity like he does every night.

He is absolutely sane.

Lots of people take walks before going to bed.

_With a nailed bat looking for monsters?_

He’s fucking lost it.

Steve stopped to wipe away the sweat at his temples. He placed his hands on his hips, breathing heavy in the utter silence of the night, and squinted at the woods in front of him. There’s nothing to see except more trees, more brown leaves, more nothing.

The tension leaves him in an exhale.

He’s not crazy, he’s just trying to get some sleep...except if he told _anyone_ he did this every night they’d probably have him committed.

 

Steve’s feet stopped when he reached a clearing of metallic refuse, the junkyard. A government goon squad came to clean up the demodogs' bodies. He came with Dustin to check one day and found most of the cars gone.

The place still reeks of decay.

He looked up at the stars, unobscured by trees and breathed out large puffs of misty air into the night. This place would’ve been nice if it weren’t for the feeling that hangs around it. It’s a junkyard, the place where broken forgotten things go.

The feeling seeps into your bones.

He swung the bat a few times grunting with the effort. He remembers the heavy feeling of contact, wood against bones and muscles, and the drag of flesh like he took his own fingernails to the demodog. He can’t conjure up much else, the urgency, the need to protect, ‘don’t die’ running on a loop.

He swung a few more times, unaware he wasn’t alone.

“This normal for you, Harrington, or should I be worried?”

A voice, not just a voice, _Billy’s_ voice, came from the inside of one of the cars. He didn’t mean to shriek. The shock punched the shrill sound from his throat before he could control it. He dropped the bat like a stick of dynamite.

His head whipped around to the few cars left in the forgotten lot. He _heard_ Billy’s voice.

He’s not crazy.

Billy laughed, manic as always, sharper than glass. His legs were hanging out of the Volkswagen with the missing top, but that was all Steve could see of him.

“What the hell,” Steve said shrilly to himself.

Like, seriously, what sort of person sits in a junkyard in the middle of the night? What kind of creep do you have to be?

He stooped to pick up the bat, his eyes stayed trained on the Volkswagen.

“Did I scare you off, bambi?” Hargrove said with a laugh.

Bambi is new fucking low, even for him. “ _No_ ,” Steve snapped. “And I’m not a cartoon deer, what the hell, Hargrove?”

Billy sat up.

It’s not like Steve notices things about Billy often, but he looked _off_ if only for a second. Whatever notion Steve had about it was replaced with a grin, all white teeth, wet, red lips, and hungry blue eyes.

Billy always looks starving like a cat with a mouse.

“Sure, you aren’t,” he said. “You scream like a little girl, Harrington.”

Steve’s cheeks pinked.

He was _startled._

It was a _natural, human_ response.

Billy’s eyes fell to the bat in his hands, the grin quickly turned into a scowl. “What are you doin’ out here, Harrington?” He asked. “Especially with that thing.”

It brought him no small amount of satisfaction to hear Billy say ‘that thing,’ like the bat repulses him.

It should.

“Taking a walk,” Steve said. “What are you doing?”

Because, again, you have to be up to something weird in a junkyard alone at night.

It spells _creep._

“It’s not becoming to be nosy, Harrington,” Billy chided. Somehow sounding high and mighty while simultaneously like he couldn’t care less. He lowered himself back down into the hull of the car and put his feet up again.

Steve rolled his eyes so hard it hurt.

_Fuck this guy._

Which he’s said a million times about Billy Hargrove, but seriously, _fuck this guy._

Steve chewed on his lip and thought about what Max said, that Billy’s not living with her anymore, that he’s living with his mom. It doesn’t explain why he’s sitting in a demolished Volkswagen at 10:42 at night, but he could guess they two are related.

He’s never met Mr. Hargrove. With the way Max talks about him, he doesn’t seem like the type of parent that’d be okay with late-night disappearances. After Will and Barb, most parents aren’t.

Someone new in town like Billy’s mom wouldn’t get that it’s dangerous to be out here at night, especially in the woods. Steve took a few steps towards the Volkswagen and sat down on the cold, hard earth with his back to the rear wheel of the car and his bat at his side. “You know it’s not good to be out here at night and alone, Hargrove,” Steve said.

He heard Billy snort.

From his seat, stretched out in the front of the car, he smirked while Steve couldn’t see him. His ma would _hate_ him out here alone, in the dark, where God knows what could happen to him. His smirk stretched into another grin.

_Good._

_It serves her right._

“Is that why you got that bat with you?” He asked. Steve could hear the amusement in his voice. To be honest, this isn’t the first time Billy’s heard Hawkins yokels talking about the woods. He’s pretty sure all midwestern people have got hang-ups about the woods or deadly cornfields or something.“Cause there’s something out here that goes bump in the night?”

If there is Billy hasn’t seen it.

Steve paused to consider his next few words carefully, if he says ‘yes’ he’ll sound crazy. “You never know...there’s like...coyotes around here.”

“ _Coyotes_ ,” Billy drawled. He laughed again. “Well protection is important, good for you, Harrington. I’m glad you’re taking the wildlife around here seriously.”

If only Billy knew it wasn’t the wildlife he was protecting himself from, there are worse things in the town of Hawkins than coyotes. If only he knew how dangerous it truly was to walk around alone in the woods at night the way he does.

“I’m serious, Hargrove,” he said. “It’s dangerous at night.”

He has no idea what he’s risking just for some peace of mind.

The irony of that wasn’t lost on Steve.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Billy said disbelievingly. “You were just looking out for Max and those kids that night right? Was there something dangerous in the woods then too or are you trying to push this crazy shit on just me?”

Billy’s made up his mind about that night, there was some freaky shit going on no matter what anyone tells him. Whether or not he gets to bottom of it tonight doesn’t matter, he _knows_ what he thinks already. He knows there’s something weird about all those kids and their siblings and Harrington.

Right now all it really serves as is a good distraction from the real reason he came out here. Steve showing up, when he needs a distraction and not a face to pound in, is just the universe giving them both a bit of mercy.

“You’re the one that asked why I had the bat,” Steve said, losing his patients. “It’s because the woods are dangerous, I’m not pushing anything on you.”

“It sounds like you’re trying to scare me,” Billy said.

He could hear Steve’s exhale, long and sharp like steam from a kettle. Billy's lips twitched into a smirk. Tommy was right about one thing, Steve’s a huffy little princess when he wants to be.

“I’m _trying_ to tell you to be careful at night,” he said.

Billy sat up again. Steve hadn’t expected to see him with hands perched on what would be the window and his head peering out to look at him. Billy’s eyes searched over him, his mouth doing that thing that makes him look _real_ insulted or confused or something.

He finally spoke, “I don’t know if you’re trying to come off as nice or nuts, Harrington.”

“Neither,” Steve answered. “I’m not nice to people who beat up kids.”

Billy smirked. “You mean Sinclair, Harrington?”

“I mean all of them,” he said coolly. “But especially Lucas.”

Steve looked at him with a small ember sparking in his eyes, they say, _you disgust me_ , it makes him giddy anyway. He disgusts a lot of people.

His ma’s probably included in that after tonight, and if not, it’s only a matter of time.

“Then why warn me?” He asked. “Why bother?”

“...Because I don’t want you to get mauled?” He said like that’s some kind of a no-brainer. Steve makes it sound like it’s weird to want the people you hate to die. “I’m not gonna be nice to you, Hargrove, but it’s not like I wanna see you dead. Haven’t you heard? This town’s had enough funerals recently.”

They’ve had two.

Two too many.

Billy stared at him. From the way Tommy and everyone else described Steve, he expected acid and ice. He expected someone that burns a hole right through you, makes you want to hole up forever and die when you’ve crossed their path.

So far, all Billy’s found is fluff and _gold._ Gold like the flecks of it in his brown eyes that go hazel with it sometime.

“You _are_ nuts,” he said.

“Fine,” Steve huffed. “Die then. It’s no skin off my back.”

“It sure isn’t,” Billy agreed.

They were both quiet after that, the night swallowed up all conversation. Steve’s eyes cast over the junkyard, it isn’t the worst place now. Billy makes it seem downright homey with his feet up and the perfect view of the stars. You can’t get a view like this anywhere else without trespassing or laying down flat in the middle of the road.

The weirdest thing, at least to Steve, is that their silence isn’t awkward at all. Billy’s no more than three feet away from him, hasn’t tried to kill him, hasn’t waggled his tongue in his face once, and the worst thing he’s called him so far is bambi. In a few minutes, they’ve managed to achieve something that he couldn’t with anyone else.

Not even Nancy.

Billy hasn’t loaded the silent with burning blue eyes, leering or judging, at least, he doesn’t _feel_ eyes on him. Steve stole a glance at Billy, who made a quick point of looking up at the sky. His ears looked pink in the dark of the night.

Steve smirked. “How long are you staying out here?”

Billy shrugged, “until I feel like going back.”

He thought of Max again and what she said about his mom really missing him, he wanted to gauge Billy’s response. “Home?” Steve asked.

“Yeah.” There were teeth involved in the stretch of his lips, shark-like ones. “Home,” he said with a bite to his voice.

He wished he could ask about his mom, but he figured that was like giving Billy a knife and telling him to go at it. All he knows is that Billy’s living with his mom and this is the least threatening he’s ever seen the guy.

Billy almost seems normal.

“Why’re you asking, Harrington?” Billy leered. His tongue stuck out between his teeth, he smiled. “You don’t want to be alone in the scary woods?”

Actually, it might as well be the exact opposite. He’s got his bat, he’s faced down monsters before. Billy’s got a loud mouth and a bad attitude, the only monster the guy’s ever faced is his own reflection.

“I don’t want _you_ to be alone in the scary woods,” he reiterated. “I thought we had that figured out already. the woods out here are dangerous alright? So just…” Steve rubbed a hand over his burning, blushing cheeks. He can’t believe he’s about to say this. “Can I walk you out of here?”

As if those are the only words Billy knows, he say, “you’re nuts.”

Steve rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I’m gonna start charging you every time you say that,” he said.

“What are the chances I actually run into a fucking _coyote_ ?” Because he’s _sure_ Harrington means more than a coyote at this point. Coyotes don’t make people walk around at night with bats.

“Ever heard of safe than sorry?”

Good, golden, pretty boy Harrington, who would walk through the woods with him even though he hates him. He’s nuts. “Yeah, I’ve heard. I tend to ignore it.”

_Of course._

“Yeah, well, better safe than sorry, so…”

“So you’re serious,” Billy finished for him. “Serious as a heart attack.” The last thing Steve was expecting him to do was actually rise from the hull of the car. “Fine, walk me back to my car if you’re gonna have a cow about it.”

He doesn’t actually want to go home, but he’s got school tomorrow, and he knows better than to sleep in his car on in January. If he was looking for a sign to head back, this might as well be it. Billy patted his jacket until he smacked down on his smashed carton of cigs.

He pulled one out and lit it.

Billy inhaled deeply on it, Steve watched the smoke leak from his nose and his shoulders sag a little. He offered the cigarette to him with an eyebrow raised, “you need to learn how to relax, Harrington.”

Steve took from him and took a drag before handing it back.

That’s the whole point of this, he _is_ learning how to relax.

He’s relaxed.

He’s _completely_ relaxed.

Steve snatched the cigarette from him again and took another puff before shoving it back between his fingers. Billy scoffed, “ever heard of please and thank you, princess?”

“You told me to relax, I’m relaxed,” he answered bitterly.

Steve’s a twitchy type of guy, no matter what he says about being relaxed. His feet shift, he has no idea how to plant them, always hugging himself and chewing on his lips. He would guess Steve actually has no clue how to relax.

Billy figured he’s no better than him, what with his boiling blood and vicious nature.

He was walking just a few steps behind him, which makes no sense if he’s trying to protect him from coyotes or something, but it’s not like Steve knows where his car is, so.

He spent the better half of few minutes trying to see what Steve sees in the woods that makes him so damn jittery. He see...bark, leaves...branches, thorns, stars, he doesn’t see it. Steve might just be a little psychotic like his ma or some shit.

“So, how often are you wandering the woods hoping not to run into coyotes or some shit?”

Steve made another one of his little huff noises. “Don’t put it like that, man, lots of people like to take walks before going to bed.”

Billy’s never heard of that before, but midwestern people are barely people, so he keeps his disbelief to himself. He pulled from his cigarette instead and slowed his walk to be even with Steve. “Why not on your street then, huh? What’s so great about the woods, bambi?”

Steve glared at him. “I’m not bambi.”

“Sure you aren’t, Harrington,” he said.

What Steve hears is a steaming pile of sarcastic shit.

“I’m actually waiting on an answer, Harrington,” he said impatiently. “I wanna be _enlightened._ ”

Jesus, _this guy._

Since when did Billy Hargrove ask so many questions? He doesn’t remember him talking this much and the guy already talks too much as is. “Why’d you go to the junkyard, Hargrove? Are you lifting part?”

Two can play at this game.

His eyes slid to look at him, another grimace placed itself around his cigarette. “Lifting parts,” he scoffed. “Christ, Harrington, you think that’s where I’d go if I wanted to? Jesus, I just ended up there, it’s not like I got a fucking map.”

“Exactly,” Steve said, his chin tilted up, a satisfied grin on his face. “It just happens.”

He absolutely, positively just _ends up_ in the woods every night.

_Absolutely._

“Whatever,” Billy grunted.

They reached the Camaro park inconspicuously off the road. Steve couldn’t help wondering what made him drive all the way here and then _walk_ to the graveyard as if driving wasn’t far enough. He would ask, but he’s already walked ahead of him again.

“You happy now?” He asked when the car was completely in sight.

“Sure,” he intoned. “Call it happy.”

Steve stopped at the edge of the road, his feet still firmly planted on grass.

Billy stopped, in the middle of the road no less, like there wouldn’t ever be a car coming down it. “You expecting a ride, Harrington?”

He stared at him, looked both ways and shrugged. He’s not too far from home. “I was just gonna walk back,” he said. “Unless you’re offering.”

“I’m not,” he said quickly. Billy seemed more like the Billy he knows than he has all night. A cruel grin spread across his lips. “If I see a coyote I’ll make sure to tell ‘em to head in the other direction,” he said. He flicked his cigarette onto the road and turned on his heels. “They don’t want to run into bambi with a bat.”

Steve opened his mouth and shut it, like pretty boy, Harrington and princess, bambi has officially been added to Billy Hargrove’s list of shit names for him.

_Great._

He swung the bat lazily just to get rid of some of the nervous energy rattling in him.

“Yeah, thanks,” Steve said apathetically, despite having no clue what the hell he’s thanking _him_ for.

Billy’s tongue ran across his bottom lip, “you’re welcome,” he said before ducking into the car.

The Camaro’s engine revved, tires screeched into the night, Steve jumped. Coyote or demodog, that noise would scare the hell out of just about anything.

Steve counted himself lucky, watching the car barrel away. He headed home with aching feet and sweaty clothes and fell into bed, like every night after he goes out for a walk, he sleeps just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs: Like Faith or Some Shit (OST)- Le Matos  
> Watching the Stars- Le Matos  
> \---  
> I love writing them, alright? And like, I know I'm not the funniest or anything, but Steve rationalizing being out in the woods cracked me up and the fact that he called Billy a creep for the exact same thing and the fact that Steve insists he isn't crazy only for Billy to call him nuts like 80 million times made me cackle to myself.  
> Anyway, Billy's more subdued at this point, I think partially because of the flashback and also because clearly, his yelling at his mom didn't put him in a 'face pounding mood.' I'd say he's kind of drained. He yelled, he cursed, he cried, and now he's tired, especially because he's not used to getting to do all that. I'd imagine he'd get pretty exhausted, pretty quick from expressing his emotions.  
> By the time Steve finds him, Billy's just...like cooled off, which is pretty much what his mom wanted him to do in the first place.  
> And Steve (poor, poor Steve) is like how I imagine most people would respond to crazy otherworldly madness, like, he wants to be normal and go back to being normal but strange situations call for strange solutions and this all he can think of. The poor guy's just trying to be himself again, even if he has like zero identity because that's how teenagers are sometimes. Meeting Billy in the woods just kind of made things a little topsy-turvy for him because he's never seen Billy so mellow in his life. (Sure he's an asshole, but he's mellow so...) His interest is slightly piqued now. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope y'all are having as much fun with this as I am lol! :)


	5. Chapter 3

He shoved the cigarette between his lips again while he eyed up the house through his windshield. It’s uglier than the one his old man has; the dead plot of land is even worse. She probably scrimped and saved up for the whole thing.

For what?

For _it’s not for you_.

Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

He debated how likely it was his ma knew he’s been sitting in his car for at least twenty minutes in an attempt to get the _guts_ to get up. She probably did.

She’s got a freaky intuition, sometimes it’s like she can read your mind without even looking at you. If she were alive during the Salem witch trials, she’d wouldn’t have made it through.

No, his ma and her freaky intuition and bullshit about feelings and shit would get her burned at the stake or drowned. 

He checked his watch, the hour hand was well on its way to past midnight, and then his own reflection in the rearview mirror.

His cheeks looked flush from the cold and not from tears. His eyes seemed only a little red. His fingertips pressed at the puffed-up skin under his eyes again; it clearly wasn’t going anywhere no matter how much he kept poking at it.

If Steve hadn’t noticed anything, not that he seems like the noticing type, he surely would’ve said something. He’s one of those guys that thinks it’s perfectly normal to just outright ask if someone’s okay.

Billy threw the car door open and stood. Billy lingered out in the cold, waiting for his legs to cooperate with his brain and _move_. Move back toward the house he wasn’t even sure he wanted to go back to

If it were, like, May, he’d _consider_ sleeping in his car until Sunday, but it’s the middle of a downright freezing January. He’s already out of the car and unless he wants some underqualified coroner handling his icy corpse, he has to go back inside. 

The cold night made quick work of his jacket and the thin T-shirt underneath. His teeth started chattering after each cigarette-free exhale.

Fuck this _frigid_ wasteland, honestly.

Billy swallowed his pride, all bruised and battered as it already was and trudged up the stairs.

His old man would be outside waiting for him.

He would never let him get off so easily, he'd never just let him walk back into the house. He'd want him to be thankful to be living in his hellhole.

Maybe his ma will throw him out herself and that's why she's not outside.

Billy looked up at the door and scowled at the note: 

_Billy,_

_Front door broken._

_Back door unlocked._

\- _Ma_

He didn’t know someone could fit so much scorn in two sentences, honestly, but if anybody could it’d be her.

Before they left everyone used to say he had her temper, not his old man's.

Billy snatched the note from the door and pitched it into the yard, letting the wind take it farther than it normally would go. He watched it with some satisfaction on his face because his ma hates littering and it was a swift ‘fuck you’ from him to her to throw it in her yard. 

He made his way from the front of the house to the back door.

Snow was coming down in thick, round flurries, which isn’t anything odd for Hawkins and nothing Billy wasn’t already used to and completely over.

He’s officially decided he fucking hates snow. It looks nice for about thirty seconds before he realizes he’s gonna have to shovel it or drive in it and both _suck._

His hair felt damp near his scalp and the shoulders of his jacket were dusted with frost within seconds.

He wondered if Steve had walked home already or if he’s got his arms wrapped around himself, bitching at the sky about snow and frost getting in his perfect hair.

He probably should’ve given him ride even if it would’ve been utter hell having Harrington in his car for anything longer than two seconds.

Steve makes him go all tunnel vision and shit and that’s the last thing he has time for. He already didn’t plan on sleeping well tonight, if he had Steve in his car he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.

If he gave him a ride once he knows he’ll want to do again and again and again until he inevitably gets himself killed because even though the guy gives off the general boring air of a yuppie, everything with Steve Harrington is charged and loaded and full excitement.

He’s something he can’t touch.

He’s something he can’t have.

And besides, they don’t know each other _like that,_ so no rides for Steve Harrington.

“Do you have _any_ idea what time it is?”

Billy startled.

 _See_ , tunnel vision and shit.

“Late,” he sighed, entering the house. He gave Bull a compulsory pat on the head and scratch behind the ear before walking past her.

“It’s past _midnight,_ ” she nagged.

She full-on nagged him, he hasn’t been _nagged_ in years, not even by Susan.

He decided he could go back to living without it.

“Where you are going and for how long, Billy, those are the rules,” she said. “I had no clue where you were.”

He almost said, ‘that’s the fucking point.’ He almost said ‘you’re batshit.’ But that would likely get him punched at his old man’s house, and while he doesn’t think his hippy, pacifist mom would take a swing at him she could always do something else.

She had on her pajamas and slippers; her hair was a loose bun. She’s got that look on her face that confused the hell out of him, with her hands on her hips and her lips screwed up to one side. The look that looked a lot like ‘you’re in so much trouble,’ but isn’t that one.

Billy rolled his eyes at her. His old man’s got two looks, he’s either in trouble or he’s not.

She sighed exasperatedly, “ _and_ you’re shivering.”

Her eyelashes were wet, the whites of her eyes looked just as red as his did and puffy bags just like his hung underneath them. She looked washed out and tired the way he remembers her being when he was young.

She looked like she had been crying the entire time he was gone.

His ma used to get real anxious when he left her sights. She would start biting her nails to bloody stubs, she would get twitchy like a goddamn addict without her fix. She used to bawl every morning before school when he was little.

The feeling he got looking at her was the same one he got hopping on the bus every morning. He grimaced. He hasn’t felt that way in _years_ , not since it was just him and his old man.

“You scared the hell out of me, Billy,” she said, wrapping her arms around him.

Billy’s hand nearly curled around her arms instinctively, the same way he goes to stop his old man from shoving him before remembering he isn’t _supposed_ to.

Before remembering his ma isn't hurting him, technically. He focused on the plant free flowing over the edge of its pot until it was over.

Even after she pulled away, he didn’t loosen up. “Billy—”

“Are you done now?”

He stepped away from her as if being hugged had hurt, like there are bruises under his clothes and she bumped every single one of them.

Her lips pursed. She put her hands her hips again. “Just because I’m worried about where you go until midnight without telling a soul doesn’t mean I’m crazy,” she said.

He could bet she thinks it’s not crazy to think he's going to die at school too. “Sure, it doesn’t, ma,” he said snidely. 

He walked around her to get to the front of the house, where he could dump his shoes and, hopefully, get rid of her.

The house smells like a bakery. When he was little, she’d spend all day baking. After the weekend he’d come to school smelling like sugar and cake.

His ma used to bake when she got freaked out too. When she and his old man used to get into it, he could always tell because there’d be at least six pies sitting out by the windowsill and when he asked who they were for she could never give him a good answer.

He passed the mountain of chocolate chip cookies. Billy’s eyes lingered on them, there have to be at least two dozen cookies there.

Those aren’t for you,” she said from behind him.

“Yeah?” He turned around to look at her with his eyebrow raised. “Who are they for, ma?”

Her lip slid between her teeth. “They’re for work,” she said with her chin raised and her voice faltering.

_Sure._

“At Melvald’s?” He asked, words curling cruelly, _needling_ her. “The convenience store needs cookies?” 

"I thought it’d be a nice gesture for hiring me,” she said. “I’ve done it before.”

Billy snorted. “Oh, _I bet._ ”

She scoffed. “Fine, sue me, Billy. I started baking so I wouldn’t fall asleep. Is that so wrong?”

“Could’ve gone to bed,” he said. “You know, _instead_ of wasting food.”

He knows that face from when Max is whining, when she pulls on his arm and squeals ‘that’s not funny, Billy!’ His ma looked at him like she was bored. “Don’t act like I’m off my rocker just because I waited up to make sure you got home safe.”

His ma used to have some kind of rod rammed up her ass when he was a kid, but he didn’t remember it being this obvious. She was anxious about everything all the time, which didn’t translate to her being such a hardass, it just made her cry nonstop. Apparently, now she’s a fucking _ball buster_.

Billy kicked off his shoes, wet with slush, and dumped them on the mat by the door. He made a big show of it, he dumped his jacket too, which he immediately regretted as goosebumps pebbled his skin.

“Well, look here, I’m home. Happy?”

She rubbed at her temples. “Billy, I swear to God--,” she stopped herself.

“You swear to God what?” He said, expecting her to do something.

His ma stalked off towards the kitchen and Billy watched, she came back holding on to a plastic timer. “You see this,” she said, wiggling it a little in her hand like he’s a toddler with a poor attention span.

Billy’s lips curled at her.

“It’s got fifteen minutes on it. I’m not letting you go to bed wet and cold, and I’ve still got cookies in the oven, so we might as well sit by the fire and talk.”

His old man never wants to _talk._ Susan talks too when he accidentally steps on her toes, she hums and haws and twists her chipped manicured nails nervously saying shit like ‘you can’t do that, Billy.’

 _Sure_ , he can’t.

He keeps the words he tries not to say to Susan, the same words he’s trying not to say to his ma from leaving his mouth. ‘Fuck off’ burns low and deep in his gut like two lumps of red-hot coal.

Billy grinned, teeth white and sharp, no different from a shark’s, like this is all a joke and he’s finding it _hysterical._ The same way he thinks Harrington’s little huffs are the punchline to every joke.

"Don’t give me that look, Billy,” her eyes narrowed on him. “It’s not funny.”

He laughed. “I think it is.”

It’s _hilarious_ bullshit. It has to be because she can’t possibly be serious.

“I’m asking you to sit in a chair. It’s not like I’m asking you to solve world hunger.” Her bottom lip jutted out not like she’s pouting. Billy knows the mean-mug expression. He can scare people with that face. Her eyes narrowed him. 

“ _Go,"_ she hissed.

If it meant getting her to leave him alone, _he would_. He’s never had to put so much effort into getting someone to _leave him alone._ Billy glared at her before taking off the in the direction of the living room.

“Sit, please,” she said, pointing to the seat by the fireplace.

There are flowers on it, of course, dark purple and white ones on midnight blue upholstery. Billy sat down, the warmth of the fire brought the feeling back into his fingertips. 

Bull’s nose rubbed against his leg affectionately, he instinctively reached down to pet the large dog curled up underneath his seat. If his ma wasn’t so damn pissed at him she would probably make her really smile, her two ‘special boys’ getting along so well.

His ma sat down across from him.

“So,” she exhaled heavily. “You broke the front door.”

Billy read the note but hadn’t really registered it as anything that mattered. This house is old, probably older than both of them combined and then some. It’s not his fault everything is falling apart.

“Slamming it broke something in the handle or something, I don’t know,” she said. “All I know is that it’s broken.”

“Yeah,” he said after a long pause.

“I don’t have the money to fix that. _Do you_?”

He shook his head.

“I get that you were upset, alright? But no more being rough with things unless you want to spend all your time over here fixing things because that can be arranged," she said. She doesn’t look like she’s fucking with him, she looks like she would make him. The house is old enough that he really could spend every hour of his free time here rebuilding.

“You’re fixing it,” she said. “I have a toolbox if you need one, but everything else is on you. And you’re fixing it _before_ you leave this Sunday, alright? You break it, you fix it.”

Billy nodded.

“And that goes for anything else if this happens again,” she said. “Does that sound fair?”

He nodded his head again, starting to feel a bit like a bobble-head.

“I only have one key for the back door, which I’m letting you take, but that means you have to be home before five o’clock every day to let me in.”

He nodded.

He came back with his head down to face the music, he was inevitably going to have to hear his ma preach, or bitch, or whatever the hell she was going to do to him. Hell, she could hit him over the ass with the hard end of broomstick until he can’t sit down for a week and he'd still technically know how to respond.

He’s not sure what the fuck this is or what the fuck to do.

“Okay,” he intoned. “I understand.”

“Good,” she said. “Next thing, I don’t know what it’s like over there, especially with your step-sister and all, but I don’t care if you curse around the house. You stub your toe and yell motherfucker, that’s fine, but I’m not going to let you curse _at_ me. I don’t deserve that.”

Billy added his ma saying the word 'motherfucker' to the list of things he'll never get used to, which included her tattoos.

“Okay. It won’t happen again. I’m sorry," he said impatiently. 

He knows this song and dance, ‘it won’t happen again’ is what adults want to hear, even if it’s a bald-faced lie.

It's what will get you set free almost every time. 

She sat closer to him like she needed to burrow her eyes just a little deep into his soul, like sinking hooks even deeper into his skin would help somehow. “Billy, I’m not asking for an apology when you’re not sorry,” she said. “You can always apologize, but not when you don’t mean it. There’s no point.”

Billy blinked.

There is, in fact, always a point to saying ‘I’m sorry.’ She's just batshit crazy.

The point is to get whoever you’re talking to to shut up and go the hell away. So _he_ can get the hell away from this and her and the feeling like his skin is crawling with bugs. 

“Don't look so surprised,” she chuckled. “You don’t have to apologize to me until you mean it, that might be never.”

It probably will be.

“That being said, _I’m_ sorry,” she said. His ma turned to look at the fire, it made her look more golden, it made the blue in her eyes a little more clear and slight sheen more obvious. “I wasn’t going to argue with you like that, _not_ when you’re that angry and out of control. I wasn’t... dismissing you or ignoring you. I was giving you space to cool down. I heard teenagers like that, that they like their space.”

_Space._

Giving him _space_ to cool down?

What makes her think he needs it? What makes her think he needs space like a toddler in a timeout? Probably the same thing that possessed Max when she jammed a fucking tranquilizer in his neck.

_Self-preservation._

“’pology accepted, I guess,” Billy grumbled.

This should be over already, but his ma’s still in her seat eyeing him with those sad blue eyes, her hands perched on the edge of the armrest like her hand, with its peace sign and cross and lotus tattoos, might come out and grab his.

He’s dry and beyond warm at this point. He’s been doled out his punishment. She sat him down, did her little song and dance, and he listened like a goddamn dog, so...

“Why am I still here?” He asked. 

“Because there’s,” she picked up the timer to look at it, “about seven and half minutes left.”

She was _smiling_ at him like it’s funny. All sadness dissipating before his eyes like clouds giving way to the sun.

“So, can I go?”

“No.”

Billy tried his best to keep from leaping out the chair anyway.

“Why not?” He growled.

“Because there are seven minutes left, and I still want to talk to you,” she said.

At this point he'd decided he'd rather shoot himself in the foot than have to have any more of her gentle gaze on him. He thought for sure she was going to let slip an ‘I always want to talk to you, sunshine,’ but she didn’t. His ma bit down on her tongue this time.

“I’m sure this is all really weird to you,” she said matter of factly. “I don’t think your father does anything like this with you.”

Billy wanted to point out that _no one_ does shit like this with him.

Sure, he gets ‘talking to’s’ mostly from teachers, but nothing like this.

Probably because this was uncomfortable and awful and if this weren’t his ma talking to him he would’ve decked them by now.

He _hates_ this with all his being, with what's left of his shriveled-up heart and sad, puny conscious he _hates_ this.

“When I said it’s not for you, at first, I thought it was kind of obvious, but that was my mistake, it isn’t like…like I came back for money or to get back at your father or because someone else told me to,” she sighed, rubbing at her hands through her hair. “I just never stopped thinking about you, _ever._ I had to come back to fill…,” she grimaced. “It’s not even a hole, I just knew I wasn’t going to be happy until I came back, until I knew what you were up to.”

Billy blinked at her again. She’s all honest in the eyes again, they shine on him like he’s not being punished at all, and like a heel, he said:

_“Letters exist.”_

She laughed, loud enough for Bull to raise his head in question. She laughed like she thought he was telling a joke, but he wasn't. 

“And miss seeing you grow up any more than I already have? Miss being your mom?” She said incredulously. “No, God! Billy, I’d rather fall down and die.”

Billy swallowed the bowling ball in his throat. “Oh.”

“I went on the road, and I saw how pretty the world is, and Billy, _it is beautiful_ ,” she said. “But I wanted you there more than I wanted that.”

She made it sound like common sense, but it’s not.

A black hole pit opened in his stomach, palms sweaty and mouth dry, the air in his lungs didn’t feel like enough, like he can’t get a real breath. He thinks his eyes might be stinging but he doesn’t want to think about it, he wanted a damn cigarette.

Some booze.

Some fucking cyanide, maybe.

“What?” He said breathlessly.

“I’m happiest here with you, even with the very angry Billy I met today,” his ma said as if it were just that damn simple.

Like deciding to come back was the easiest decision she's ever made. 

Like, it is what it is.

It couldn’t be, but the look in her eyes said otherwise.

She looked down at the kitchen timer. “Two minutes,” she said. His ma smiled at him, “do you have anything to say to me?” She asked.

“No,” he said softly.

He’s good at making his voice sound steady when he thinks it might falter. He’s gotten good a talking over large lumps consuming his throat.

Billy looked down at the fire, watching it struggle to burn on charred wood, and made a mental note to check on the firewood stock outback.“Can I go now? It’s late, I got school tomorrow.”

Billy knew that she knew he was just making an excuse to leave, as if he’s ever given a shit about school. He didn’t even feel like sleeping anymore anyway, he was a balloon filled with too much of everything and ready to pop. He just needed to leave.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood just to do _something._

"Can I?” He repeated, pushiness crept into his voice.

His ma finally nodded. “Sure, you’re right, it’s late,” she said. “We should both get some sleep.”

A dismissal.

A _yes._

He stood immediately, “‘kay.”

He was halfway across the living room when his ma spoke again, "good night, Billy.”

His old man usually has finishing words too, one last barb to cut him deeply with. He looked at her with her tan skin and bright blue eyes, her golden hair and her lips pulled up into a soft smile. She didn’t mean anything by that, not like there is at his old man’s house where ‘good night, Billy’ could mean anything except ‘good night, Billy.’ Hearing it come from her meant one thing and one thing only.

_Sleep well._

“Night, ma,” Billy said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure a song will come to me, I have an idea in my head of one but it doesn't *quite* work, and I need to stop listening to Netflix Original Maniac soundtrack before I pick a song lol because I could literally choose a million songs from it because I'm obsessed with the soundtrack right now.  
> However, if you really want music the two songs (because this is a longer chapter) that I had in my head were:  
> Black Out Days (Future Islands Remix)- Phantograms  
> Hostage- Billie Eilish  
> \--  
> Note: Now, Hostage, I think probably would work for this chapter because Billy, when he sits down in that chair, is essentially a hostage. Of course, Lilly isn't going to hit him or anything, but he's very much so stuck to that chair until she's done with him. I kind of wanted it to be similar to when Neil has Billy pinned against the wall, both of the situations are inescapable, but they have different outcomes.  
> Billy is probably even more confused by what just happened than he was before because it was technically fair and she apologized and she asked for his opinion and those things don't happen. The argument they had and this resolution is essentially the beginning of both of them seeing their true colors. Like, Lilly's perceived Billy to be mostly okay, a little quiet and to himself, but well-behaved up until this point and Billy's been in survival mode (hence the pretending), except now he can't qualify his mom as a threat the way he would the authoritative figure in his life.  
> You best believe he's afraid to sit in that chair again, but he wasn't put down or rejected or anything that would happen at Neil's house. Since he got to her house nothing's been like his previous living environment for the last 8 or so years (hence survival mode). But he doesn't really need to 'survive' exactly. Obviously, he still wants to avoid the chair, but he only got there by being at his absolute worse and then his punishment is to fix a door?  
> This new environment is both pleasant and unpleasant. There are clearly parts he wants to hurt and harm and parts he wants to keep and he likes, which is kind of the way he feels about his ma.  
> Who knows what all this will do to him honestly...


	6. Chapter 4

He was sure the night would end with all his shit in the yard.

It’s not like anyone with a normal working head would let him stay, like his ma has to be a bit of a masochist to be interested in letting him stay around, but she had.

Whether he really liked it or not, he was staying another day. And probably another and another until he has to go back to his old man’s and then in two weeks he’ll back in the same position.

He'll be back here, wondering how he's still alive in Indiana, not wanting to get out of bed because he's still alive, he's in Indiana, and he  _hates_ breakfast. 

At first, he hated it because he hated Maxine, and then they moved to Hawkins and then waking up in the dark and cold became his least favorite thing about mornings.

There’s snow and there’s ice which is liable to fucking kill a man and wind that tears through his clothes and chaps his lips until they bleed and slush that makes the hem of jeans wet and goddamn Christmas carols that start November 1st and end on New Years’ playing in every building with a working PA system. But there’s nothing like waking up in the dark, not able to see his own hands five inches in front of him, that pissed him off more.

At least that's what he thought.

He hates the morning because he hates breakfast because breakfast time is just like dinner and his ma will be there waiting.

Billy stared up into the dark of his room, between running into Steve in the woods, of all places, and sitting down with is ma by the fire, he had a hard time believing it all wasn’t a dream.

The dull buzz of panic in his gut told him it was real. He had seen Steve in the woods and his ma sat him down like that and said those things to him.

He kept replaying the night in his head on a loop, from the woods to the point where she said she wanted ‘angry Billy,’ too to her saying ‘good night, Billy’ like she meant it. He replayed it and replayed like a film artist re-watching the same scenes meticulously.

He was scrupulously  trying to find _something,_ but he’s not sure what he’s looking for.

It wasn't a dream. 

Billy shoved his watch up to his eyes.

The last time he woke up, he had seventy-two minutes left and before that one hundred fifty and before that four hours. His ma swore as soon as her next paycheck comes in he’ll get a clock, but he’s not so sure she meant it.       

He planted his feet down on the carpet underneath his bed. It was a big improvement compared to his old man’s house. Having a carpet meant never having to touch the icy floor. It made up for the fact that the bed is the smallest bed he’s ever had.

Billy silently slinked into his chair. It helped that his ma had Elvis on to keep her company in the wee hours of the morning and to keep all his movements silent as he got ready for the day.

“D’you still like ketchup on your eggs?” She asked without turning around.

He jolted in his seat. 

_Does she have eyes in the back of her head?_

His ma poured eggs from the skillet onto a piece of toast. Billy watched her. “Is the music too loud?” She asked. “I can turn it down.”

He slumped in his seat trying to look like he hadn’t just had his soul scared out of him. He was aware of Elvis’s _Hound Dog_ when he had first entered the kitchen, but then it faded into the background so quickly he forgot it existed.

“It’s fine,” he grumbled. “And yeah, I still do.”

She hummed, nodded, and went over to the fridge to grab the ketchup off the shelf. Billy had been expecting scorn, even Susan puts him on ice after he’s ruffled her feathers.

His ma looked at him and her nose crinkled up, her lips pursed. “You’re going to freeze in that. The high for today is twenty degrees,” she said. “You _better_ be wearing more than that flimsy jacket you have.”

Billy looked down at himself, as far as he was concerned, he was going to be _cold_ because it’s December in fucking Indiana, but he wasn’t going to freeze. He’s only walking from his car to a building for God’s sake.

“It’s the only jacket I brought with me,” he said. Out of the three that he owns, the _flimsy_ one is his thickest. “It’s not a big—”

_When did any of that become your problem?_

What most people call remorse, he calls ‘not wanting to be stupid again,’ so he isn’t. He shut his mouth and fiddled with the hole in his shirt. “Okay, ma.”

“I’ve got all sorts of scarves and hats, and not all of them have flowers on them so I’m sure you can find something you like,” she said. “And, if you can, please try to leave early, it’s icy out and I want you to drive slow.”

Billy snorted.

“If I get a phone call you drove into a ditch beca—”

“I’ll drive slow,” Billy grumbled. He grabbed the water pitcher and poured himself a glass of water to distract himself from saying something else.

His ma was staring at him with her nose wrinkled and her lips pursed again. Her hands hitched on her hips. Billy sipped from his glass, desperately trying to ignore her while Elvis kept rocking and rolling through the morning.

He hates breakfast.

She sighed. “Okay, okay.” His ma kept looking at him, her bright blue eyes darting all over his face like she’s looking for something again. He hates that look too. “You know you’re grouchy when you haven’t eaten. You get hangry.”

Billy tried to ignore her.

He turned around to finish breakfast, pushing the eggs onto a plate of toast. She placed the plate in front of him with a knowing little look. “Eat,” she said. “The last thing I want to do is send a grouchy Billy to school.”

Billy looked down at his plate. His eyebrows furrowed. He looked at her, her back was to him again, pouring more eggs into the sizzling pan. Billy looked down at his plate again. He debated saying something.

He probably shouldn’t say anything, but...

“Ma…?”

She hummed in acknowledgment.

Billy opened his mouth, shut it, he paused. When he looked down, a heart-shaped egg drizzled with ketchup over two pieces of toast stared back at him. _A heart-shaped egg._

"What?” She asked.

“It’s a heart,” Billy said, dumbfounded.

His ma laughed. She cracked an egg into the pan, sprinkling in a too much pepper for just about anyone else but her. “That’s a very astute observation, William,” she teased. “It  _is_ a heart.”

Billy blinked. His cheeks felt warm, “no, I mean, _why_?”

His ma went back to pouring the rest of the eggs onto the plate, pouring them into a large heart-shaped cookie cutter. “Because I felt like having heart-shaped eggs, and, in case you forgot, I love you, so…heart-shaped eggs.” She shrugged. “Would it be less weird if they were star-shaped?”

_No._

He shouldn’t be surprised. His ma’s been doing stuff like making his breakfast into a smiley-face and putting notes in his lunch since he was a kid, but he’s almost an adult now. _This_ is the type of shit that makes his face feel hot and his stomach roil.

“Probably not,” he said.

He cut into his eggs with the edge of his fork and started eating. He’s starving. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until she placed the plate in front of him. The plate made him remember for the millionth time how good he used to eat. It made his mouth water.

 _Admittedly_ , he missed being fed well and He missed not having to fend for himself.

 At his ma’s he can eat as much as needs to without scrutiny, that’s not something he’s been familiar with since she left.

Their first day together she went wide-eyed as he wolfed down his food, he couldn’t help eating like a damn animal when she was giving him so much and he’s _so,_ _so hungry._ His ma smiled almost like she understood, the ‘I’ll remember to keep the fridge stocked,’ told him that she had. For that, Billy had the decency to say thank you and mean it.

“Good?” She asked.

 _Always_. He missed ketchup on his eggs, Neil had told him to cut weird shit like that out when Susan came into their lives.

He nodded in between large bites.

She beamed. “Good.”

His ma lifted the needle from the record and shut it off before sitting down opposite of him with her own plate of heart-shaped eggs and toast.

“Do you eat breakfast at your dad’s?”

Billy looked up at her, “what?”

Her cheeks pinked. “Well, you told me you have to get your step-sister to school and all that stuff,” she shrugged. “I was just wondering if you’re getting fed over there is all.”

_Oh._

Billy shrugged. He looked away from her. His mouth opened and shut while he thought about what to say.

“I mean, well, yeah,” he said. He was sure his old man didn’t want him talking about anything that goes on at that house with her or anyone for that matter, but _especially_ her. “Usually I just have coffee and an orange for breakfast. On the weekends you kinda have to fend for yourself, so...”

She nodded, scooped sugar into her tea and sipped. “Right.”

He wished she had kept the Elvis on. He actually likes the music in the morning, besides having his own bathroom it’s the best thing about the mornings. It’s a luxury he can already tell he’s going to miss when he has to go back to his old man’s house.

His ma looked at him with soft, warm eyes. “Okay,” she said.

"What?” He wasn’t sure why now was the time he wanted to know what the fuck her deal was or what he had done that warranted that look, but it was. He wanted to know.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. She cut up her toast neatly. “I made your lunch again, by the way. It’s in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“I ended up putting a cookie in there.” Billy looked up at her. “A few actually, so you know, your friends at lunch or something, they can have some too.”

Billy grimaced at the idea of Tommy snagging a cookie out of his lunch box, meanly waving it in Carol’s face. She’s under some notion she’s got thunder-thighs or a fat ass or something.

Tommy gets a real kick out of teasing her for it even though he thinks she looks fine. Billy couldn’t care less.

He’ll probably fling them at the other wastoids at his table. They’ll fight over them for sure. A bunch of rich kids fighting over a chocolate chip cookie like it’s mommy and daddy’s affection.  

It’s fucking _depressing._

“Thanks.”

“You were right,” she said looking apologetic “I made a lot, probably too many.”  His ma paused. “But I was so stressed! And it was dark and cold and,” her voice was going higher, “and I was so—”

“I said thanks, ma,” Billy said, not even daring to look at her. Maybe she’s grinning from ear to ear at him or staring in shock, he didn’t want to know. “I…mean it.”

“Oh.” She ducked her head down and bit back a smile. “Good.”

They ate in stifled, awkward silence that hadn’t become awkward until last night. He shifted something, _broke_ something the same way he’d damaged the door.

“Is Mrs. Byers driving you home?” He asked.

Jonathan Byers’ mom also works down at Melvald’s and they’re on the fast track to becoming friends he thinks.

They’re neighbors too, which only adds to the possibility.

Billy has been trying not to think about it since he realized that the address Mrs. Wheeler gave him that night and the address his ma wrote down for him were only one measly number off with the Byers being 149 and their's 150. It’s only by some miracle the Byerses haven’t seen him and no one at their house has recognized his car flying by.

“She sure is,” she said cheerfully. “I think our schedules are lined up all the way ‘til Friday so I won’t be needing a ride.”

“Great,” he hummed.

Personally, the lady kind of creeps him, like, his ma _was_ off her rocker. Mrs. Byers _is_ off her rocker and so is her pasty firstborn Jonathan. He’s not sure what to make of Will Byers, if it weren’t for the kid going missing, Billy would’ve never known his name. He probably would’ve called him ‘runt Byers.’ Max hangs out with him and from what he can tell he’s the definition of the word.

“Stop that,” she hissed. She was doing that thing again where she sounded angry but not quite angry. “I see it on your face, Billy Hargrove, stop it, right now.”

“Stop what?” Billy said, playing dumb.

Like he said, his ma’s got a creepy intuition about certain things like what’s going on in his head. “You’re making fun of them,” she said accusingly. “I heard what you called Jonathan the other day, you called him Nosferatu.”

“Because he looks like Nosferatu, ma,” Billy shrugged. He shoveled eggs into his mouth. “S’not my fault he looks like he crawls out of a crypt every morning.

“ _Billy._ ”

“You haven’t even seen him. For all you know, I could be right,” he said. Because she _hasn’t_ and if she had she would say he needs to see the goddamn Sun. The guy is probably eight different kinds of vitamin deficient.  

Her eyes narrowed, and Billy knew he’d incurred her wrath for the second day in a row. There’s a part of him that thinks maybe he’s _intentionally_ trying to get thrown out, but it’s not like he’d have anywhere else to go.

And he’s really _not_ trying to get thrown out, it just seems like he’s trying to. He swears he isn’t, he’s just a heel. He’s just not a pleasant person to be around.

“Just for that, if you see anyone picking on either of them you _better_ not join in and you better not stand there and watch, you hear me? You _better_ help those two boys, Billy Hargrove, are we clear?” She seethed.

“Yes, ma,” he grumbled. 

“Joyce is sweet,” she said. “She’s the reason you don’t have to come get me every day. She’s the reason I even have a job, it’s the least you could do for her.” 

Except Billy didn’t intend on doing jack-shit for the woman, he hasn’t even _seen_ her. He doesn’t even _know_ her.

“Okay, alright, jeezus, ma, if I see it happening, I’ll help—”

“Jonathan and Will,” she said sternly. “ _Jonathan_ and _Will_.”

He glowered at her, “Fine, Jonathan and Will. _Whatever._ ” 

She nodded, pleased.

“If you were getting picked on, I’d want someone looking out for you when I’m not around.” She was giving him that ‘darling’ look again, a little sad in the eyes but definitely affectionate. _Soft_. “I _wish_ there was someone looking out for you when I’m not around.”

Billy squashed down the feeling curling his stomach. “Yeah, well,” he stabbed into what was left of his breakfast. “I don’t need it.”

His ma raised an eyebrow at him. She’s got that ‘you know you’re ridiculous, right?’ face on. “Okay, tough guy, the sixteen and half year old that doesn’t even have a proper jacket doesn’t ne—”

“Ma,” he groaned, glaring at her.

It’s not like it’s _his_ fault. If they weren’t in Indi-fucking-ana he wouldn’t _need_ at least eight layers on to survive.

She dropped her fork, putting her hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll get off your case. Just make sure to wear layers today, please. I’m serious.” She looked at him with a small, knowing grin. “Not even you would look handsome as a popsicle.”

Billy’s lips twitched. One of his eyebrows lifted, “you sure?”

“ _Positive,_ ” she teased. “I like you just the way you are, not frozen with all ten of your fingers and toes intact.”

 “Anybody ever tell you you’re too happy in the mornings, ma?” He asked, trying hard not to roll his eyes at her.

 She grinned Billy’s grin, cocky and daring. “Nearly got into a bar fight over it once so, yeah, I have.”

Billy nearly choked. “You _what_?”  

The sound of the horn for Joyce Byers puke green Pinto blared twice and short from outside.

“Shit!” She hissed. “See, you got me talking,” she said, looking down at her watch.

“Wait, what do you mean _bar fight_?”

She pushed out of her chair grabbing her plate. “It started about morning people,” she said. His ma her hand flippantly. She grabbed a thermos of coffee off the table and pouring her tea into another. “Ended with arguing over something else because he was a _jackass_. Don’t worry about it. Happened _way_ before you were even born.”

“ _He_?”

 She came back to kiss his forehead as she dashed by him again. “Your lunch is in the fridge—second shelf to the right. I put the backdoor key in there, so you don’t forget it. Be home by 5 tonight and wear layers, it’s cold.” She shoved her arms into her coat jacket and grabbed her bag. She scratched Bull behind the ear on the way the way to the back door. “And _drive slow_. I’ll be back at 5:30. Have a great day at school and I love you.”

“…Bye,” Billy muttered, even though the door had already shut.

He stared at his mostly eaten food, the heart didn’t even look like a heart anymore. He wasn’t sure what shocked him more, his ma got in a bar fight or the fact that she loves him still.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Not gonna lie there's nothing serious going on I just really wanted to have the next morning because last night was so volatile and of course Billy was expecting for this morning to be the same...but of course it wasn't. And I think I wouldn't call it grateful, but he's perfectly fine with that. Billy doesn't seem like the type to let things linger (unless he has to) and neither is his ma as he quickly finds out.  
> Also, yes, from the tattoos and the driving around with "hippies," possibly being a witch and definitely having hung out with her fair share of biker gangs, she's a bit of a badass which makes Billy kind of shook (because Neil is obviously boring and a square).  
> I think it explains a lot lmfao  
> Song: Jail House Rock- Elvis Presley
> 
> P.S. This was in my comments on the word doc I used to write this fic and I completely forgot about it:  
> "I promise I don’t hate Jonathan okay, like…I promise I don’t. At the same time, like with Billy and Steve and all the other characters I can recognize their…faults...and it's his face."  
> Lmfao I make myself laugh, sorry Jonathan! :(


	7. FIC HAS BEEN REMADE: UPDATED LINK BELOW

Here ya go if you're interested!!!  
https://archiveofourown.org/works/19735714


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